Bathsheba’s Maid

by Amy Canada

 

David had become very famous.  He was a mighty warrior king, who reigned over all Israel and was fair to everyone.  Even his sons were priestly leaders.  He had been kind to Saul’s grandson, Mephibosheth, and also to Ziba, who had been Saul’s loyal servant.  And now, even I am a partaker in his kindness, living in his palace with my lady, Bathsheba.  She mourned deeply when her husband, Uriah, was killed in battle.  We were all shocked; he has always been such a powerful warrior.  King David must feel awful, that the one time he didn’t go to battle with the Israel army, one of his favored soldiers, Uriah, an upright man, was killed.  And that, only days after hosting him at a dinner in the palace, having him there at the king’s banquet table as a guest.  Uriah didn’t even know yet that his wife was with child.  Now, King David is being chivalrous to take Bathsheba as a wife, to give Uriah’s child a father.  Bathsheba will be well taken care of, although I can still see the sadness in her eyes.  I can see that she is still heartbroken over Uriah’s death.

Today, we are in the court for the first time, watching the proceedings as Kind David hears reports and requests, and settles disputes.  I heard that a prophet arrived this morning seeking an audience with the king, but no one seems to know the matter about which he would make an appearance before the royal throne of Israel.  The crowd is in good spirits today.  There are few difficulties in dispensing with the disputes; the man after God’s heart seems to walk in His wisdom as well.

There is the prophet Nathan now, being led into the chamber by palace guards.  He is a smaller man than I expected, leaning hard on his cane.  King David seems glad to see Nathan and comes down from the dais so that the old prophet would not need to climb the steps.  They are speaking in hushed tones; I guess the matter is of national security.  I am quite excited to be here.  I cannot see Bathsheba from here, but I know she is in the area near the throne.  She is wearing royal purple today; some of the embellishment I sewed with my own hands, a pretty little stitch my mother taught me.  This moment is thrilling.

Now I see why people are so impressed with King David; he listens so intently, as if the words of this prophet are the only important matter in the world at the moment.

Gasp. Oh, it startled me, the king is shouting angrily, waving a fist.  If I were Nathan, I’d have turned on my heels and run from that booming outcry.  He stands so still.  And now the entire courtyard is silent, every eye trained on the tall, tanned, muscular man we trust and bow to, the man we call King.

“…having no pity!” is all I could hear.  I am shaking now.  I don’t know what this is about, but Nathan is stock still, staring into the eyes of Israel’s leader.  Only the sound of breathing is heard, all else is as quiet as the dessert night.  Wait, the prophet is raising a hand to King David.  The man must have a death wish!  He is pointing into the face of God’s anointed.  Oh, Lord, don’t let this end badly!  All here present are in shock.  You could hear a grain of wheat fall.  I hear Nathan’s voice as if he stood next to me…

“You.  Are.  That.  Man.”

What?  What is he saying to the King David?  What man?  What does this mean?  The king’s face has gone pale; all the blood has run out.  He looks suddenly frail and weak.  Oh, my!  Lord, what is happening?  I must get to my lady, but I cannot move a muscle.  I, like every single person in this courtyard, am frozen, mesmerized by what we see.  Perplexed by what we hear.  Confused.  Yes, even scared.

Nathan is not shouting, but I hear him clearly; “The Lord, the God of Israel says, ‘I anointed you king of Israel and saved you from the power of Saul.  I gave you your master’s house and his wives and the kingdoms of Israel and Judah.  And if that had not been enough, I would have given you much, much more.  Why, then, have you despised the word of the LORD and done this horrible deed? For you have murdered Uriah the Hittite with the…'”

Huhhhh! A gasp from the crowd, a shriek in the distance.  My lady!  What did he say?  My mind is screaming.  I must get to my lady.  The crowd must let me through.”

“Just be still,” says an elderly man as he gently grasps my shoulders and turns me back toward the throne.  I am wild with fright and want to fight him off, run to Bathsheba.  I look into his eyes, pleading.  There is peace there, in the depths of his gaze.  He nods and presses my arms to my sides.  His demeanor calms me.  “You can’t get to her right now; just listen.”  His voice is soft, like cashmere to my ears.  I acquiesce and bend a knee, turning my attention back to the prophet, who is still addressing King David.

“This is what the LORD says: ‘Because of what you have done, I will cause your own household to rebel against you.  I will give your wives to another man before your very eyes, and he will go to bed with them in public view.'”

Gasping, moaning, crying from the crowd.  I realize I am part of it.  My fear has turned to sadness and grief.  This is all too much!  I cannot comprehend this madness.  Who is this Nathan?  What he says cannot be true!  Who is this David whom we call King?  Is God playing a horrible trick on us?  Where is Bathsheba?  I must find her.

The man still has one hand on my arm, soothing my hysteria.  David… is the king crying?  He puts a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and looks into his eyes, great tears falling from the face of the king.  “I have sinned against the LORD.”

Sobbing.  The people and the king, all are sobbing. David, now leaning on the prophet, does not hold back his emotions.  King David is broken.

Nathan’s voice is as gentle as the gaze of a doe; as soft as a brook yet as strong as a river:  “Yes, but the LORD has forgiven you, and you won’t die for this sin.”

I look again to this man beside me.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand any of this!  This gentleman again speaks to me in a whisper, “It’s going to be alright.  In the end, it’s going to be alright. You will be with your misses before long. She will need you.  You will be strong for her; you will help her through.  You are hers; you are here with her for such a time as this.”  I think he must be mad, but his voice is so soothing, calming.  He nods toward the Prophet Nathan and his king.

“Nevertheless,” I hear Nathan say, with sadness in his voice, “because you have shown utter contempt for the LORD by doing this, your child will die.”

Sobs escape me.  I feel the hand of the kind man grip my shoulder.  My face in my hands, I cry hard for my lady, for the baby, for King David, for Israel.  Oh, Lord, what has he done?  What will we do?

“You will be strong.”  I don’t hear the man this time, I hear it in my heart.  I feel the tension release in my body, and I begin to feel a deep peace and strength.  I resolve that this elder of the court is correct: I will be strong for Bathsheba.  I will be there for her to lean on.  I will do everything in my power to be a strong tower for her.  I must express my gratitude to this man – perhaps a friend of my grandfather, but I didn’t recognize him.  I pull my hands from my face.  He is not here.  I search the crowd, now milling about, both crying and shouting.  He is nowhere.

But I don’t have time to linger, a path has opened in the crowd; I am running, running out of the courtyard.  Running to my lady.  Running to my future.